


The Tears Hadn't Come

by IvanW



Series: Original Series [4]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Ficlet, Grief, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Search for Spock, Recovery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-30 23:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19413568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvanW/pseuds/IvanW
Summary: Jim with Spock after a nightmare





	The Tears Hadn't Come

“What was your greatest failure, Captain?”

The voice sounded ominous, other-wordly. Jim looked around, trying to guess where it even came from. The room was empty save for him. No furniture, no other being. Just him, standing in a beam of light.

“What?”

“What was your greatest failure, Captain?” the voice asked again.

Jim thought about it, but frowned. Where was he? What was this place?

“I don’t understand.”

The heavy sigh moved his hair, he felt it brush along every part of him.

“Your greatest failure, Captain.”

“I…my…son. The loss of my son.”

“Explain.”

Jim shook his head, unwilling to answer further to this anonymous out of body voice. “Go to hell.”

“You first.” This time the voice sounded like Khan.

The floor under him gave way and Jim felt himself falling. As he fell down, down, down, he felt his heart slamming hard in his chest.

“David!” he screamed hoarsely, inexplicably.

“Jim.”

The ground below was red and bleeding, pulsing like with breath. He was getting closer to slamming straight into it.

“ _Jim_!”

He was shaken by a huge hand that suddenly scooped him up and away from the ground.

Jim sat up, gasping. His throat hurt from screaming. He put his hand to his neck. His T-shirt was soaked through with sweat, his pajama bottoms damp too. The lights were on, fully bright and blinding. He was in bed, his own bed, in the apartment he shared with—

“Spock,” Jim whispered, for it was all the sound his sore, beaten throat could make.

“Here, Jim.” And Spock was holding him. One hand on Jim’s back, one on Jim’s chest. The hand that saved him from falling to the ground.

He closed his eyes, trying to keep the tears that threatened at bay. He let loose a heavy breath that eased the tightness in his chest.

“Your nightmare was quite unpleasant this time,” Spock spoke softly.

Jim nodded.

“I will make you some of that medicinal tea.”

Spock went to move away, up and out of bed. Jim covered Spock’s hand on his chest.

“Not yet. Just…not yet.” He opened his eyes and looked at Spock. Beautiful, precious Spock. “I’m-I’m glad you’re here.”

“As am I,” Spock replied.

And Jim was. Things were far from perfect. Spock didn’t even remember most things, lots of what he had been through with Jim, and sometimes Jim was certain Spock only agreed to sleep by his side out of some odd sense of obligation Spock didn’t even understand.

But right then, after that nightmare, Jim was glad Spock was there. Happy that only a few weeks ago, Spock, newly revived, Katra intact, walked up to Jim and said, “Jim? Your name is Jim.”

Jim squeezed Spock’s hand and then let it go. “Sure, Spock. The tea sounds good. I don’t think I could go back to sleep for anything.”

He was surprised when Spock briefly ran his thumb across his jaw, and then rose to see to the tea. Jim wiped his face, grateful that for now, anyway, the tears hadn’t come.


End file.
